The 44th Hunger Games: Fear in the Air
by Epicness by Liv
Summary: "The only thing stronger than fear is hope. Yet when you are afraid, how is there hope? You are so blindsided with fear that there is no room to hope." Welcome to the 44th Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor, and your fears not in control of you.
1. Chapter 1

(This is a sneak peek)

President Quinnly Petron

I shake my head at the Gamemaker's plans. It's not a good plan. Nothing appeals to me, and the arena just doesn't click. It's almost an exact replica of last years. Gamemaker Issy is waiting outside, probably worrying about the plan.

"Issy! In. Here. Now." I yell, and hear scuffling immediately. The door creaks open and Issy's bright orange hair peeks through. He walks in,

"Madam President?" Issy asks timidly. He wrings his hands, and taps his foot impatiently. Issy is a brand new Gamemaker, and he disappointed me.

I stand up, my high heels digging into the floor. Leaning over the desk, I put my face right in front of his.

"Your arena? I HATE IT! Redo another one and have it to me next week if you wish to live" I hiss. For added affect, I take his arena plans and tear it in half. Issy looks flabbergasted.

"A new one? This took me months to do!" Issy exclaims. As my glare hardens, Issy backs away before scurrying out of my office. A laugh escapes my lips as the door slams behind him. He has no idea about what I have in store for him.

I already have an arena plan. My Head Gamemaker, Cornelius Snow, made it. It's perfect- so perfect, I'm promoting him to President next year. I'm getting old, after all.

I pull out Snow's plans for the Games. The beauty of it all- it's so perfect. Nothing could be wrong with it. And there is no District advantage, so anyone could win!

People will fear for their lives- even not in the Games.

**Yes! I am doing a SYOT. Even though I should being working in my other story. But I will update regularly on this one. Only if you GUYS ARE DETAILED! Okay. Here is the form. **

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Name:

Age:

Gender:

Preferred District(s):

Bloodbath? (If not enough are submitted, your character may die in it):

Appearance:

Personality:

Family and Friends:

Background:

Fears/Phobias (at least 5):

Strengths (no more than 3, weapon-wise or mind-wise:

Weaknesses (at least 3, please include weapon-wise and mind-wise):

Reaped or volunteered? If volunteered, why? (Districts 1, 2 and 4 are acceptable reasons to volunteer):

Reaction:

Token:

Would they partake in the bloodbath?

Willing to form alliances?

Interview Angle:

Thoughts on Capitol:

Interview Outfit:

Chariot Ride Outfit:

Reaping Outfit:

Anything I Forgot:

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**D1M- **Tarquin Victus- 13- AgentZyiana

**D1F- **Delilah Sinette- 17- Kaden B

**D2M- **Mason James- 15- Khloe Grace

**D2F- **Terra Ryker- 18- kindnessandbravery

**D3M- **Darius Ether- 16- Demolation Flame

**D3F- **Lumena Huxley- 16- Cassandrine

**D4M- **Isaac Henkhaus- 15- Kaden B

**D4F- **Jordyn Ward- 18- AgentZyiana

**D5M- **Hugo James- 13- Imetc

**D5F- **Marinda Ashcraft- 16- upsettomcat42

**D6M- **Mello Parkson- 16- BangBangishotbyoudown

**D6F- **Kaya Emile- 18- Imetc

**D7M- **Aiden Stross- 18- hollowman96

**D7F- **Rose Rarity- 16- mystic47**  
**

**D8M- **Dorian Ross- 17- upsettomcat42

**D8F- **Silvia Bobbinet- 15- Khloe Grace

**D9M- **Torn Bronson- 17- SPACE MAN OH SPACE MAN

**D9F- **Alessia Arlen- 17- kindnessandbravery

**D10M- **Capricorn Caverly- 18- TitanMaddix

**D10F- **Tygres Hammil- 16- SPACE MAN OH SPACE MAN

**D11M- **Sammy Levanson- 12- GlimmerAndFoxfaceLiveOnForever

**D11F- **Harmony Kingsley- 15- hollowman96

**D12M- **Carrie Mayers- 12- Imetc

**D12F- **Catalina Rose Dawson- 15- 15

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**There is the form. Submit away!**

**~ Liv **


	2. Chapter 2: Sponsorship

Hello! It's Olivia, and I have a special surprise! *drum roll*

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**SPONSORSHIP SYSTEM**

Submit a Tribute- **50 points** (per tribute- max of 2 tributes)

Follow/Fav This Story: **25 points **(together)

Follow/Fav Me- **20 points**

Answer Questions At the End of the Chapter: **5 points per question** (could be more depending on how thought out it is)

Constructive Criticism- **15 points **

**WHAT YOU CAN GIVE (these are things that may not have been picked up at the Cornucopia) **

Sword- 100 points

Dagger- 75 points

Set of 5 Knives- 75 points

1 Knife-15 points

Spear- 85 points

Mace- 80 points

Axe- 75 points

Bow- 60 points

10 arrows- 40 points

Body Armor- 150 points

Poison Dart Gun- 30 points

Poison Darts (5)- 15 points

Cut Medicine- 15 points

Burn Medicine- 20 points

Pain Killer- 20 points

Sleeping Bag- 50 points

Meal for 1 (Rice, beans, small piece of chicken)- 35 points

Meal for 2 (Pot of soup with two bowls, side of rice, 2 apples)- 45 points

Meal for 3-6 people (Container of chicken, rice, carrots, 6 apples)- 60 points (55 for 5 people, 50 for 3 or 4 people)

Empty Canteen (quart sized)- 10 points

Empty Canteen (gallon size)- 15 points

Full Canteen (quart size)- 15 points

Full Canteen (gallon size)- 20 points

Thermal Blanket (covers two people)- 35 points

* * *

**You can Group Sponsor. This means that if someone wanted a group meal for some allies, they would ask the tributes creators that are in that alliance to chip in. The points would be distributed evenly. **

**The prices will change the farther into the Games we get. **

**Keep your tributes coming!**

**~Liv**


	3. Chapter 3: Snow speaks riddles

**I will be keeping track of Sponsor Points. I need bloodbaths. Bloodbath tributes and male tributes are a plus 5 points. Please, try and send kids 15 and under. If you are a Career, that's cool. And there are some old tributes. But I really need 12 and 13 year olds.**

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**Caesar Flickerman's POV**

It's my first year hosting the Games. Yes, it is an extraordinary honor, but it's nerve-wracking. Knowing that if I mess up, President Petron will have my head. '_Breathe in, breathe out' _is the only thing going on in my head. Honestly, right now I've got nothing to be nervous about. What I'm about to do is simply an interview with Gamemaker Cornelius Snow about the Arena. I smooth down my green-tinted hair and rub my hands together. A glowing blue intern comes rushing towards me.

"You're on in 25 seconds, Mr. Flickerman!" Roszelia, the intern, tells me. I send a wink her way as I walk to the stage and see her friend and her fawning over it. A smile lights up my face. If I can woo those girls, who are stereotypical Capitolites, then I can woo the crowd. The big timer counts down.

_5...4...3...2...1_

I walk out onto the stage, and see a huge crowd of screaming Capitol citizens. the grin on my face becomes bigger when I realize Snow will be doing all the talking while I merely ask. I take my seat in one of the plush red chairs, and turn to the crowd.

"Hellooooo ladies and gentlemen! I'm your host, Caesar Flickerman, and tonight you are going to witness a live interview about the Arena from. . . HEAD GAMEMAKER CORNELIUS SNOW!" I bellow. As soon as I say "Snow", Cornelius walked onto the stage. He sits in the chair next to mine, and crosses his legs. Mr. Snow wears a suit of red, contrasting with his dark hair. After he finishes waving, Snow turns to me. We don't have to worry about the Districts hearing the game plans, because not only is this not being recorded, but the power is off in the Districts. And it doesnt hurt that this would be on an exclusive Capitol TV channel.

The noise in the crowd dies down, and I turn to ask my first question.

"So, Cornelius, what do you have in store for us these Games?" I ask, leaning forward a bit on my chair in anticipation. Snow smiles.

"Let's just say... the only thing stronger than fear is hope. Yet when you are afraid, how is there hope? That is what the tributes will be feeling. Fearful and hopeless. Of course, if they are smart enough, the Games will be simple," he says. The crowd is silent. It's hard to make out what he's implying. Does the arena involve the tributes fears?

I ask Snow a few more questions, but he answers with riddles. It's quite frustrating, but the crowd seems to gobble it all up. I'll have to ask him about it personally. After we finish the interview, the crowd erupts into cheers. Some girls are holding up "We 3 Snow!" signs. I sigh. How pitiful has the youth gotten?

"There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! Give it up for Mr. Snow!" My voice announces. Snow walks off the stage and I follow. As soon as I get backstage, my prep team applies powders to my face. When they are done, I walk to Snow.

"What is the arena?" the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. Snow smiles.

"You see, Mr. Flickerman, the arena? It's fear itself."

* * *

**Sorry it's short! But it was a sneak peek and I can't do the Reapings yet. Sorry. **

**Here are the Sponsor Points so far!**

Imetc- 110

Khloe Grace- 100

hollowman96- 100

Kaden B- 95

kindnessandbravery- 95

AgentZyiana- 95

Demolation Flame- 55

Mystic47- 50

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**Question: What do you think Snow means about the arena?**


	4. D1 Reapings

**Two chapters in a day! If I get my D2F, maybe three. And my D4M, maybe four. But let's not get too excited. Oh, quick note: The Games will be Gory with a capital G. I would not read them if you have a light stomach. Anyways. Here's the D1 Reaping!**

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**Delilah Sinette, 17**

"Delilah, is that the best you can do?" My trainer yells at me. I groan mentally. How am I supposed to fight Vanessa if someone's yelling at me? Speaking of Vanessa, she's trying to land a blow on me in hand-to-hand combat.

I dodge her punch and kick her stomach. As Vanessa doubles over, I grab her in a chokehold and push her down. For once, my weight comes in handy. Vanessa gasps as I pin her to the ground. A smile starts to creep onto my face, but I quickly stop it. Emotions hold you back.

Vanessa manages to squirm out of my grip and land a good blow to my jaw. I wince as the pain settles, but quickly counter-attack with an elbow to her nose. Blood starts to squirt out of it and Vanessa quickly puts a hand over it to prevent more blood from coming.

While she's distracted, I re-pin her to the ground, using my combat boot clad feet to keep her pinned. This time, I can't prevent smiling as the trainer ends our match. As Vanessa passes me leaving the fighting ring, she glares at me.

"You were only able to do it because you have a pigs body," she hisses. I don't show her any emotion, I just keep walking. But rage fills up inside of me. People have teased me about my weight for years. It's not like I don't know about it.

Loreal, my personal trainer, walks up to me with a happiness on her face and an ice pack in her hand. She tosses me the ice and I hold it to my jaw.

"Good job, Delilah! You are Career worthy," Loreal tells me. I wince as the cold settles into my skin, but smile back.

"Yeah, but they aren't going to choose me to volunteer simply because I'm bigger than other girls. But that must be the 5th time I've beaten Vanessa this week!" I complain to her. Loreal pats my back reassuringly.

We say our goodbyes and I put the ice pack back into the healing center. Vanessa and her overly obnoxious friends are there.

"Hey look, it's Fatso! The poor thing will never be good enough to get into the Games," Vanessa puts a fake pout on. I shut the freezer door and turn to her.

"Really? Let's ask your nose about that," I retort. Vanessa looks at her friends and puts her hands on her hips. She flicks her hair behind her shoulder, attempting to be sassy. As she walks away with her friends in tow, she rolls her eyes at me.

"Keep rolling those eyes, Vanessa. You might find a brain!" I call after her. She slams the training center door and I grab my bag. A few trainers are still cleaning up as I walk to the doors. It's not far of a walk for me- my house is a mere 5 blocks away from the Training Academy.

On the walk home, I start to think about volunteering. The trainers are clearly going to choose Vanessa. And then I won't have my time in the Games.

By the time I reach my house, I've made up my mind. I'm going to volunteer for the 44th Annual Hunger Games.

* * *

**Tarquin Victus, 13**

The haunting memory of my old girlfriend's, Serena, death replays in my mind as I throw knives at a dummy. She was only 12, and they took her away! They killed her.

Without noticing it, I realize that I've been throwing the knives much more viciously. The dummy's heart area is littered with holes. If it were a real person, they'd be dead. I guess that's what happens when you relive your girlfriends death.

As somebody taps my shoulder, I jump. That's the thing with me- I can hear animals from a mile away and not hear high heels clicking on cold ground. I turn and am face to face with one of my trainers.

"Tarquin, we need the Capitol. We haven't had a Victor in 5 years, and it's starting to look bad. If we send a young volunteer, sponsors will be lining up to give you gifts. So, you are volunteering at the Reaping today," Marcus, the trainer, finishes.

I stare at him. Why me, of all people? Yes, I'm honored, but I don't want to die. Marcus looks at me, waiting for an answer.

"Okay," I finally say. So what if it's a death match? My family will be able to see that I'm better than my twin,Tarleene.

Marcus smirks and tells me I made the right choice. He leave to go watch a fight between some 17-year old girls. Tarleene walks up almost immediately.

"What was that all about? Are you volunteering?" she asks me. I nod my head and Tara lets out a groan of frustration.

"Why you?! Why can't I volunteer?!" She questions. I smirk as she glares at me. It's about time that I get to shine. Tarleene talks a little more, but I'm focused on the girls fighting. The bigger one clearly has an advantage, but the trainers seem to favor the small one. It's a surprisingly good match.

As the small girls nose starts to billed, I watch in anticipation. I'm almost positive the bigger girl will win. A few short seconds later and I'm right.

"Come on, Tarquin. We've got to get ready for the Reapings," Tara says, dragging me with her. I grab my knives and then let myself get dragged along by her.

* * *

I look at myself in the mirror. Not too shabby. I'm in a simple white tux, nothing too special. Before I leave the room, I grab what used to be Serena's token. It's a chrome pendant that had a diamond design printed on the front with my and her names carved on the back.

'Looks like we have another Victor in this household. Maybe mother and I could share arena experiences' I think as I walk out the door.

* * *

**Delilah Sinette, 17**

I finish applying the dark makeup to my face. As I finish putting the liquid eyeliner on, I step back to admire my handiwork.

My face is adorned with dark makeup, making my green eyes pop. The short, black hair I have is brushed and lies in a sleek sheet ending at my shoulders. The dress I'm wearing is quite simple- a loose fitting black one.

I walk to the kitchen, rubbing my token- a bracelet I got from Loreal. As I stand in the doorway to the kitchen where my mother and father stand, I stay silent. My parents look at me both.

"You're beautiful, Delilah!" My dad compliments me. Tears fill up my mothers eyes and I know why- she's reminded of my dead brother. They each give me a hug and I'm on my way. I know that they will be there later. I'm just sad that they don't know of my plans.

The walk is short and uneventful. I see a pair of twins- one is a boy in a white tux, the other a girl in a ack skirt and white shirt. I smile at their bond. I used to be like that with my brother.

My finger gets pricked and I go stand in the 17-year old female section. Luckily, Vanessa isn't anywhere in sight. The video plays, and the Treaty of Treason is said. Our escort stands up.

His name is Glades Werther, and he's odd. Glades hair is carrot orange and he wears a dark red suit that contrasts against his yellow skin.

"Greetings, District One! It's an honor to be here, a true honor! Now, the most exciting part!" Glades announces. He reaches into the girls Reaping bowl.

"Tarl-" Glades is cut off by a single voice. My voice.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I yell, and push my way through the crowd. They part for me, but not before hissing insults. I walk onto stage and Glades is giddy.

"What's your name, deary?" He's asks me.

"Delilah. Delilah Sinette," I reply confidently. Glades nods and reaches his hands into the bowl. He swirls around the paper, and plucks one out.

"Rob-" Glades is again cut off by a shout. A little boy from the 13-year old section runs up. It's the boy in the white tux. He has short brown hair and green eyes, not unlike mine. He's an adorable little boy. There are the slightest bit of muscles on him.

"Name, brave little boy?" Glades asks him.

"Tarquin Victus," the boy says, loud and clear. Glades is shaking with excitement. We shake hands.

I'm ready to go into the Hunger Games.

* * *

YAYY! It's here. Was it too short? I feel it was.

Okay, here's and updated Sponsor List. They will be at the end of every chapter.

AgentZyiana- 125 points

hollowman96- 125 points

Kaden B- 115 points

Imetc- 110

Khloe Grace- 100 points

kindnessandbravery- 95 points

Demolation Flame- 55 points

Mystic47- 55

Cassandrine- 50

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**Question: Who do you think has a better chance of winning, Delilah or Tarquin?**

**Who has a better chance with sponsors?**

**~Liv **


	5. D2 Reapings

**Olivia here with the D2 Reapings! The D11 Male is the only open spot left!**

**I just wanted to say I'm thankful for everyone who submitted. This filled up really fast- I published it 2 days ago! So thank you. Here's the Reapings!**

**Also- I'm posting the D3 Reapings later today. So look out for those!**

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**Mason James, 15**

"- and then Theo jumps back and lands in the-" I'm cut off by my best friend Theo covering my mouth. My crowd boos Theo, for they wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"Nothing left to hear. We have to train," Theo says, and shoos off the eager trainees. I look at him, exasperated. The good part was coming!

"Theoooooooo," is my reply. He responds with a punch to my shoulder. Theo rolls his eyes as I rub the forming bruise. As he heads off to practice with spears, I head to the sword station. There is an array of swords, and I finally decide on a broadsword. After making sure the weight is balanced in my hand, I start slashing dummies.

_Hack_. A limb falls off. _Slash_. There goes a leg. _Slice_. Oops, I separated it's body from its head. _Cut_. Oh no, stuffing is coming out.

After training with a sword for about 15 minutes, I head over to hand-to-hand combat. There is a small fight going on between two 12-year olds. I bounce on the balls of my feet, impatient for the fight. They aren't even in the right stance. Kid #1 has his feet spread too far apart and Kid #2 has his stomach exposed, trying to protect his face.

Kid #1 wins, and I get into the ring. I'm against Terra Ryker. She's famous here, her parents both being Victors and trainers here. Terra is the strongest girl here, and rumor has it she's volunteering. I grin as I step into the ring.

"Hello, Terra! Hope you enjoy getting beat!" the cocky comment comes out of my mouth before I realize I'm going against freaking Terra Ryker. She's going to pound me into the ground.

Terra gives a smirk back, and the trainers give us the 'start' signal. I throw the first punch at Terra's face, but she moves and blocks my next kick with her arm. Her next move is a jab to the stomach, and the air is knocked out of me for a second. Terra takes my hesitation to hit back as an advantage and sweeps my feet out from under me.

My back hits the ground, hard. I cough, and stand back up as quickly as I fell. My fist makes contact with Terra's side and my foot her chest. She stumbles for a split second before hitting the side of my head with her fist. I fall almost immediately, and black spots swim in my vision as my head makes contact with the cold, hard training mat.

Terra kicks my stomach while I'm on the ground, and crouches to my level.

"Looks like I won this round, James," she hisses in my face. I nod weakly and stand back up. Terra is the only one who has ever best me. This could come from her being 3 years older and superior training. Theo comes over and looks at me expectantly.

"I can't believe you challenged Terra," Theo shakes his head in disbelief. I pull myself off the ground, and rub my neck.

"Well, I didn't. She was the next person who was going to fight. And then I had to be all cocky about it. But, dang! She pounded me down!" I say, smiling. Sure, I just got my butt kicked, but that doesn't mean I can't joke about it! It takes the pain away.

Theo rolls his eyes and gives me my gym bag.

"C'mon. You gotta get cleaned up- no one wants to look like that at the Reaping."

* * *

**Terra Ryker, 18**

"Have your feet this far apart," I show a younger student the correct stance when working with a mace. They are my speciality, besides beating the crap out of someone. Like that Mason James kid. As the girl spreads her feet apart, I show her how to use the chain to get more momentum into the hit.

The girl repeats what I showed her, and correctly hits the dummy with it. I congratulate her and she skips to the locker room. That was the last person I had to help for the day. I head to the office where my mother sits.

"Mom, I'm heading home to get ready for the Reaping. I'll see you guys when I win the Games," I tell her before grabbing my bag filled with weapons and water. It's not a heavy load to me, and this is one of the times where having both your parents Victors comes in handy- you train, train, train.

And I've trained for one thing.

To win the 44th Annual Hunger Games.

* * *

**Mason James, 15**

Though most people look amazing at the Reaping, there's nothing that makes me particularly attractive. Red hair in a buzz cut, bright blue eyes, skinny, gangly, tall. And a long hooked nose. Sure, I look better now that I've showered and dressed, but still.

A purple v-neck and black pants adorn my body. I can't help but think about how many "Dragonfly" comments there will be about me. And I do admit- I sort of resemble one.

I smile at myself in the mirror, and white teeth some back. Shaking off the bad thoughts, I think of the good ones.

I'm going to volunteer for the 44th Hunger Games. I will bring District 2 pride. My family will live in Victors Village. Taking a deep breath, I walk to the living room where my parents watch the TV- it's a re-run of the 39th Games, where the arena was flat terrain, nothing else.

My parents smile as I walk in. They've been very supportive of me, but not a big part of my life. My mother gives me a hug, and my father hands me a chain necklace.

"I made it. We are masonry. Please take it for your token," my father asks me. I nod my head, and he hugs me.

Taking in my house one last time, I leave the house for the Reaping.

* * *

**Terra Ryker, 18**

The Peacekeeper that pricks my finger looks at me with a look of disgust on his face. After a glare on my behalf, he turns to the next person. I walk over to my section and stand in the midst of girls in dresses- which I am not a part of.

My outfit consists of a tight, white top and short black shorts. Some boys glance over me and wink, trying to get my attention. They fail miserably.

Flipping them off, I watch as our escort, Hetti Yano, introduces herself. The video plays, and I eagerly await the calling of the names.

"District 2! How I love you all. So cheery!" Hetti announces, her gray outfit distracting. It's a pantsuit that has 50 shades of gray and silver in it, and her huge neon yellow wig makes her look like a rain cloud.

"Ladies up! Pey-" Before Hetti finishes, I shout those famed words that being glory.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I shout, swalking up to the stage. Hetti is appealed by my outfit, and catcalls come after me. Taking my place on the stage, Hetti asks me my name distractedly.

"Terra Ryker, future Victor of the 44th Hunger Games!" I shout confidently. Applause fills the square, and whistles crowd the air.

"Well, time for our boy!" Hetti exclaims. Again, she starts to say the name before she's cut off.

"I volunteer as tribute!" A squeaky voice says. It's the Mason kid that I beat up. He's only 15, and I won't have a problem killing him.

After saying his name, Mason girls a huge bow, and people applaud him. I, personally, think it's pathetic. He'll be dead by my hands, and I'll have pleasure doing so.

I came to win.

* * *

**Done! Yay! Anyways, here are the questions. **

**Do you think Terra or Mason will lead the Careers?**

**Why did Terra dress like she did?**

* * *

Sponsor Points!

Imetc- 195

hollowman96- 170

Kaden B- 165

AgentZyiana- 160

kindnessandbravery- 155

TitanMaddix- 115

Khloe Grace- 100

15- 80

Mystic47- 75

Demolation Flame- 55

BangBangishotyoudown- 55

Cassandrine- 50

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**~Liv**


	6. D3 Reapings

Heyyyyyyyyyyy! So sorry about late update. But I will do D4 today, I swear!

* * *

**Lumena Huxley, 16**

As I hand the peddler my money, he hands me the purple fabric I need to finish making my Reaping day skirt. The white cotton shirt I have already made, and it sits at home on my bed. Most people call me odd or think so, my parents being included. Though they would never say it out loud, I know that they wish I would be an engineer at the plant instead of a simple factory worker. They want be to be _something. _

As I walk to my house, children 11 and younger run around playing tag while 12 year olds cry. A few of my schoolmates pass me and nod a hello. District 3 seems to be a combination of things. Dreary and exciting, boring and energetic. Our whole District is an oxymoron. We haven't had a Victor in 16 years, and no one holds any hope. We've always been a bloodbath District, and other Districts laugh at us.

Not to be rude, but I sometimes wonder if they've seen District 12. They have one Victor, while we have 5. 3 of which are dead. Honestly, everyone tends to underestimate us. An old homeless man taps my shoulder. He's shivering.

"Miss, do you have anything to spare? Anything at all, Miss?" the man asks me, a pleading look on his face. I smile at him and reach into the pack I carry with me. After handing the man a blanket and spare food, he wishes me the best of luck today and I continue home. Helping people is something I try and tend to do often, for my District tends to overlook those things.

A wind blows, and my unruly, curly blonde hair whips into my face. I'm momentarily distracted, and I don't notice that I've walked a block past my house. I sigh and turn around. I can't delay getting ready any longer than I already have. My journey begins back to my house. I can't help but think about the Reaping. I prepare myself for the worst, which is saying a lot.

Got to be prepared if I'm to go into the Games.

* * *

**Darius Ether, 16**

I stare at my friend, 21-year old Rachel Davies, as she rambles on about biotechnology. The wind whips her strawberry blonde hair into her steely grey eyes, and I watch as she doesn't even bother messing with it, because once she's talking about her favorite things, nothing can stop her.

"Are you even listening to me, Darius?'' Rachel questions. When I shake my head no, Rachel slaps the side of my head while we smile. Our laughter fills the air for a minute as if there isn't a care in the world. Well, not for Rachel. But I have to deal with having my name on 6 wretched little pieces of paper that could end my life. As our other friend, Will, walks into view, we stop laughing.

Will has his ever present smirk on his face that "catches all the babes" as he says. We talk for awhile before I have to leave. As much as I wish I could stay, I've got a Reaping to attend.

As I walk to my home, I see a girl clutching a piece of purple fabric giving a homeless man a blanket while toddlers run around my feet. District 3 never seems to have an advantage in the Games, though this year, rumor has it you must be smart to figure the Games out. It has given our District hope, and you can see that evident in the faces of our citizens. There is that small beginning of a flame that must be kindled in order to keep us alive. Starving families have brighter looks on their faces because they know that their child might win this year.

I stop in front of a puddle of rain water. Glancing down at my wobbling reflection, I see a boy with deep set, faded hazel eyes and disheveled locks of the darkest ebonies that clash with his pale skin. I do not resemble my father with his carrot orange hair: nor do I resemble my mother, who has chestnut locks. I'm the boy that resembles no one.

My foot comes in contact with the puddle as I walk away. My home is in view already, and I speed up my pace. As I reach the door, my pale hand turns the knob. As I walk inside, I'm greeted with hellos from my parents to which I respond. I walk to my room and lock the door, moving aside stray electronic parts so I'm able to sit on my bed. The sweat soaked shirt that adorns my body is gingerly taken off. A faded dragon tattoo lines my chest, and a burn scar that resembles a target stands up on the skin of my left shoulder.

As I dress for the Reaping in a white button-up and black pants, I think of earlier.

Though I may resemble nobody, that does not mean I am one. If I go into the Games, I will not be the District 3 nobody, I will be me. And nothing can stop me.

* * *

**Lumena Huxley, 16**

The now-finished-ankle-length-purple-skirt is on my body, along with the white shirt. My wild and curly, dirty blonde hair cascades down my back, resting at my hips while bright blue eyes stare at me from a mirror. I personally don't care about appearances, but you must look nice for the Reaping.

I walk out the door, nodding a goodbye to my parents. I begin the walk to the square, where thousands of kids shake in fear. Some freak out when they have to have their fingers pricked. My skirt swishes around my legs, and wind howls throughout the air. Goosebumps rise onto my arms, and not only from the cold. The Games bring fear to everyone, for battling to the death is not an activity most participate in for fun.

As I stand in the 16 year old female section, eyebrows are raised at my homemade outfit. It's not every day you see a teenage girl interested in sewing and such. Just when I'm about to say something, out escort, Glinda Arden, walks onto the stage. She wears a purple dress covered in neon green flowers, and her skin is dyed a sickly yellow. Long, blue hair falls to her waist in unnatural curls.

"Boys and girls, welcome to the Reaping! Lets watch an exciting video!" Glinda exclaims. I stand patiently, waiting for the video and Treaty to be over so I can get back home quicker. After it's all over, Glinda gushes over how wonderful it is. She reaches her hand into the bowl of names. As she picks one, it makes its way to the top of the bowl before she drops it back in again. Glinda just saved a child's life. She plucks another one out, and her lips form the name.

"Lumena Huxely," Glinda calmly reads. A small, sad smile accommodates my face as I walk up to the stage. I take my place next to her, not processing everything going on. Glinda reaches into the boy's bowl and picks another name violently fast.

"Darius Ether," the Capitolite reads, and a boy from my age section walks up, fists clenched. He walks mechanically. Glinda cheers, and asks for applause. Nothing is received. She awkwardly asks us to shake hands, and then I realize.

I'm going into the Hunger Games.

* * *

**Done! Sorry for the delay, I went a whole day without publishing! I'm so sorry. D4 will be up tonight, I swear. Anyways, here are the questions.**

**Why was Lumena so calm?**

**What do you think Darius was thinking when his name was read?**

* * *

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**~Liv**


	7. Oops?

**So I realized that I deleted a chapter so you guys aren't able to post reviews for the D3 Reapings. You can answer the questions on this Chapter. Sorry. :)**

**~Liv**


	8. D4 Reapings

**Sorry for vanishing. This one is a tad short(ish), but I have more free time so I'll update more.**

* * *

**Jordyn Ward, 18**

An axe lodges itself into the dummy's head, cutting it in half vertically. Throwing another one, I watch as it lands in the heart and quivers a second. Allowing myself no break, I spin around and grab another axe before watching it separate the right arm from the body.

I take a deep breath and smile at my accomplishment. Coming to train on the day of the Reaping is optional here in District 4, but it's my turn to volunteer and I'm not passing up that chance. Then me and my fiance, Percy, can live in Victors Village together.

"Impressive throwing, Jordyn. You'll ace these Games. But for now, let's go do something fun our last day before you win," a deep, masculine voice says, wrapping their hands around my waist.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. It's Percy.

I sigh and turn around, giving Percy a quick kiss before answering.

"OK. But we have to go into town first- Clara said to meet her there," I tell Percy. Clara is Percy's cousin and my best friend, so it's an interesting group, us three. Percy "OK's" my sentence and I grab my gym bag that's filled with Capitol axes. You see, my mother, father, aunt, and brother are all Victors. And I'm going to add on to that chain, for I'd be a disgrace not to. So it wasn't hard to obtain these weapons.

While I'm in the locker room with the supplies, I let down my wavy and dirty blonde hair, letting it cascade down my back. Multi-colored eyes stare at me in the reflection of the metal. A ring of blue around the iris, most of my iris is gray,and a thing ring of green around the hazel that surroundsmy pupil. Mesmerizing but unlucky. Simply because of my appearance was I one day ambushed, earning my a scar on my back that reaches from my left shoulder blade to right hip. The same boy that inflicted this upon my also pressed a burning stick to my lower abdomen, earning me a burn scar there.

"Jesus Jordyn, whatcha doing in there?" Percy calls from the training room. I laugh before responding.

"Hunting tracker jackers. What did you assume I was doing?" the sarcastic answer escapes my lips.

I can't wait to see Percy **when** I get home again.

* * *

**Isaac Henkhaus, 15**

My older brother tosses me another crate from the ship, and I put it on the pier. We already have stacks upon stacks of boxes, but there is still cargo to be unloaded. This is one of the only days my family gets to get off of the ship. If it's not Reaping day, we are only seen out of our floating home to deliver supplies. Today is two-in-one, I suppose. Due to my lack of contact with the social world, my brothers are my best friends.

We all look alike, with blonde hair and blue eyes. There's Stanley, who's 19, Christopher who's 18, and Shae who's 16. I've been stuck with them my whole life, and there really is no getting rid of them.

I absentmindedly grab another box and place it in a row before realizing I'm done.

"Good job boys. Go into town and get yourselves a Reaping treat. You guys deserve it," Carl, my father announces. I smile as my brothers bound down the ship, Stanley holding the money.

Chris ruffles up my hair and I respond with a punch to his arm. I'm a strict rule-follower except around my brothers. And besides, it's not like I actually hurt Chris, even though he fake pouts. I grin at him before running, and we chase each other into town. As we approach civilization, I slow to a walk, not wanting to get in trouble.

"Shae, stop running!" I yell, and start walking backwards to make sure my dim wad brothers don't fall into the ocean or something. Not paying attention, I bump into someone and we fall to the ground. I turn my head to see a beautiful girl, sexy even, on the ground. She has beautiful colored eyes. I brush off my jeans and stand up, offering my hand to the girl. She declines and pushes herself off the ground and grabs hands with boy much taller than her- and the girl is 6', to say the least.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention," the girl apologizes.

"No, it was my fault. Sorry if your hurt," I say nervously. The girl shakes her head and I smile.

"I'm Jordyn. You?" Jordyn asks in a friendly tone. I introduce myself and I wish her the best of luck at the Reaping today. She smirks before replying that she won't need it.

Jordyn and her two friends- a tall dude and a short girl- walk away. Stan claps me on the shoulder.

"Who's the babe?" he asks. I glare at him.

"We ran into each other. And besides, it looks like she's engaged," I respond. We tease each other and the stress I've had about the Reaping fades away.

Today seems perfect.

* * *

**Jordyn Ward, 18**

"Bye Perce, bye Clara!" I say as I stop in front of the gate to Victors Village. Clara gives me a hug and I kiss Percy. I watch as they start heading towards their home, and walk into the familiar neighborhood I've lived in for 18 years. The house my parents live in is the closest to the gates, so it's not too far of a walk. Besides, the weather feels perfect today. Warm, slight breeze, and it's my day to volunteer.

I walk up the stone steps and grab the key from under the doormat. When I put the key in the lock, the door slings open.

"Hey mom, dad," I greet when I walk in, and grab some food that's been left out as a pre-reaping lunch. My parents reply with a cheery "hello!". They are glad I'm planning on volunteering and carrying on the tradition of winning. Being a Victor runs in my blood. I carry the plate of food upstairs towards my room so I can prepare for the Reaping.

* * *

15 minutes later I'm dressed and ready for the Reaping. My hair is in a french braid and I wear a one-shoulder strap black dress, ending mid-thigh. My token is the engagement ring Percy gave me- a chrome band with three jewels, a diamond in the center, a topaz on the left (Percy's birthstone), and a turquoise on the right side (My birthstone). I look in the mirror once more. Fierce and sexy. The Capitol won't get enough of me. I bound down the stairs and kiss my parents and brother goodbye. hey already said that they wouldn't be mentoring this year, because I've to get through the Games alone.

I open the door and start the walk to the square. Percy and Clara join me half-way, but we don't talk much. Me, because I'm rushing with adrenaline. This is the moment I've dreamed of since I was a little girl.

The lady pricks my finger and I go stand with my fellow 18-year old females. Clara goes to the 17-year old section and Percy stands to the side, being 19. Wetro, our escort, is dressed in a suit of honey-yellow and his hair a silver color. He babbles on about the Treaty and stuff, but I'm not really paying any attention. I just want this to get to the Reaping already.

"Time for the ladies!" Wetro announces, and I step forward a little.

"Cla-" Wetro never finishes.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" I yell, and walk up to the stage confidently.

"Jordyn Ward," I announce and Wetro squeals. The Wards are somewhat of a legend here in District 4. Wetro grins at me before reaching into the boy's bowl.

"Isaac Henkhaus," the slip reads. I wonder if it's the same Isaac I ran into earlier. Sure enough, the blonde haired and blue eyed boy walks out, trembling slightly, in a white polo and black shorts. Wetro pats Isaac's back. No one volunteers. Odd. Wetro finishes his speech about brave tributes, and all I can think about is winning.

Isaac won't stand a chance if it means I get back to Percy.

* * *

**SORRYYYYYYYYY. Hope you enjoyed. **

Why didn't any of Isaac's brothers volunteer?  
Does Jordyn have a chance of winning  
Does this duo remind you of any other districts?

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**Hope you enjoyed! This was the hardest Reaping to write by far, so I apologize for any wrong portrayals of personality, I get that, no need to tell me.**

**~Liv**


	9. D5 Reapings

**What's that? Another chapter? *gasp* Yea, sorry for the long(ish) wait. Anyways, here's the chapter.**

* * *

**Marinda Ashcraft, 16**

_"- but there are much worse Games to play". _I sigh as I close my book. It was a riveting and exciting read, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. As I close the book, I glance at the cover. It's a beautiful silver bird- I feel as if I should know the name. A mockingbird, perhaps? I quickly shrug it off before the thought twists around my mind, ruining the day even farther. I'll be attending the Reaping today, and I shouldn't be as scared as I am. I am far better off than most of my peers, my family being able to maintain a middle-class lifestyle, resulting in my name being in the big bowl of fear only 5 times.

"Marinda!" my little sister's voice yells. It's Kara, one of a set of twins. She's quite a bookworm, while, Willow, her twin, is rambunctious and the complete opposite. Kara comes running in, tears streaming down her pale face and bright red hair flying around her. I open my arms and Kara runs into them. She sobs into the corner of my fraying shirt, and I calm her down after a minute or two so she can speak.

"What's wrong Kara?' I ask, my voice soft and soothing. It has and immediate calming effect on Kara, and her body doesn't tremble anymore.

"Willow. She was running around- we were playing tag. She ran into a Peackeeper and made him drop his fancy Capitol equipment. They're going to hurt her!" Kara exclaims, hiccuping. I stand up immediately, and run out the door. My parents talk in the kitchen, and I manage to walk past them without drawing their attention. I jog out of the house and see Willow lying on the ground in front of a huge Peacekeeper, sobbing. I rush to her side.

Willow's brown locks cloud her face, and I can't help remember how I felt when I was lashed, just a few years younger than Willow. My "friend" stole something and blamed me. I shudder at the memory and turn to Willow. A bruise is forming around Willow's left eye, the shape of a fist. I lift her shirt and see a similar bruise forming on her stomach, except more hand shaped. The Peacekeeper slapped _and _punched a 10-year old. He has brass knuckles on. That's going to hurt...

"What did you do to my sister?" I ask the man in white, my voice scary calm.

"The brat made me drop the equipment for the Reaping. She's got 5 lashes in the square when the Reaping's over. I could do much worse!" the man spits. I slap his obnoxious face, and he turns his head, cradling the spot I hit him. Realizing how stupid this was, I pickup Willow and run, beckoning Kara to follow. We run to the house, and I throw open the door. My mother, who Kara and I inherited our looks from, gasps as she sees me holding Willow.

"What happened!" my mother exclaims, looking at her crying daughter. I set Willow down on the couch.

"We were playing tag when she ran into a Peacekeeper. He dropped his equipment and..." Kara trailed off. I finish the story, and my father looks at Kara and the now-sitting-up Willow.

"Girls, you know that playing when Peacekeepers are near is dangerous. You're lucky, Willow, that he only hit you! It could be much worse- ask Marinda!" my father exclaims. I clear my throat.

"You see, dad..."

* * *

**Hugo James, 13**

My name is in the Reaping bowl twice. Two slips of paper that say "Hugo James" out of approximately 3,000. 1 out of 1,500. The chances of my name being read is so incredibly slim, some could consider it impossible to be Reaped. Illogical. Unlikely. Unbelievable. If your not getting what I'm saying, my name has such a tiny possibility that it's stupid to have it even in the bowl.

District Three is the supposed "smart" District. Three is all about technology, numbers, wiring, etc. Yet, District 5 has the exact same knowledge and experience and more Victors, though people still believe District 3 has higher chances of winning. Yet _another_ reason the Capitol is full of idiocy and stupidity. Same thing, I guess. Or, in other terms, full of air-heads. The type of people I can't stand to be around.

Maybe that's the reason I love working in the energy lab with my mother and hate my imbecile father. He's another simpleton power plant worker, wanting me to follow in his footsteps. It's quite sad, really. A man's offspring smarter than him.

Lost in my train of thought, I don't notice the two wires I'm holding together create a spark until it lands on me. My instincts take over, the brain sending shock waves to my hand, informing them I'm hurt. I yank my hand away and drop the wires on the lab table before realizing that the energy project the scientists in Capitol Industries have been trying to create for weeks. It's powered by the heat of fire, leading the wires to... well, I'm not entirely sure.

"Mom!" my voice rings clear as day through the lab. My mother comes in, safety goggles pushed up on her forehead. I grin at her.

"I think we have a new energy source," I say proudly. A smile breaks out onto her face and she comes forward, ruffling my frizzy red hair. She kisses the top of my forehead before picking up the wires.

"Good job, Hugo. Now, the Reaping is in about 30 minutes, and I think you deserve a break before it starts. So head on home now," Mom tells me. I nod my head and leave the safety goggles I was wearing.

I run out the door, eager to go finish the small project I was working on. The door slams behind me, and I rush out of the shop-decorated neighborhood. My run becomes a slow walk as I see a Peacekeeper. I nod a greeting to people on the street as I pass them, looking anywhere _but _the Peackeeper. A sigh of relief exits my body as I pass the Capitol official. It's not a minute later when I hear a high-pitched scream. I look behind me to see the Peacekeeper punch a little girl. She falls as the metal part of his gun lands on her stomach. The bruise the blow leaves could me mistaken for a handprint.

Pity fills me as I hear the Peackeeper order the girl 5 lashes after the Reaping. She can't be more than 10. As selfish as it seems, I can't help but think how I'm glad I slowed down, for then it would be me instead of that girl.

* * *

**Marinda Ashcraft, 16**

I glance at myself in the mirror that hangs in my room. I had to get ready for the Reaping while Willow got a scolding downstairs. Her sobs have ceased since we first entered the house, but I can still hear her sniffles every now and then.

As I look in the glass, I can't help but examine myself.

I'm rather short, only standing around 5'4" or so. My bright red hair that reaches a little past my shoulders. I have a very pale complexion, with a small but noticeable amount of freckles that adorn my cheeks cheeks. My eyes are a light green, and are set a little farther apart on her face than normal. Overall, I look frail, with small hands and feet and a thin physique.

The dress I'm wearing for the Reaping is an old and faded white dress, but I love it. It's from a small store in town that sells old clothing and cloth imported from District 8. Realistically speaking, I could be punished for owning illegal material, but I've burned the tag the moment I purchased it.

I walk out of my room and meet my mother in the kitchen. She smiles.

"You look beautiful, Marinda. And I have something to add to that beauty," she announces, and pulls out a jade bracelet, slipping it onto my frail wrist. I gasp and hug her.

Normally, I wouldn't have any hope on Reaping day. But this small piece of beauty let's me know there is good in the world.

* * *

**Hugo James, 13**

I stand in my section, rubbing my finger against my gray slacks. The lady pricked it exceptionally hard, taking much more blood than she should have. Paired with my pants is a white dress shirt, for the Reaping is a time of "celebration" so we should "honor" it by dressing up.

Our escort, Thalia, walks up to the stage, looking hideous in her black ball gown adorned with pink feathers. She smiles and says some rehearsed speech, droning on about the Treaty and whatnot. Eventually, the time comes.

"Let's pick our brave lady tribute!" Thalia announces. She reaches her abnormally large nails into the bowl.

"Marinda Ashcraft!"

* * *

**Marinda Ashcraft, 16**

I stand still in shock. I'm going to die. In the Hunger Games. Thalia calls my name again. A Peacekeeper comes to get me- it's the one that hurt Willow. He grins a yellow-tooth smile and his breath reeks of cigarettes.

"I'll whip her extra hard," he hisses while leading me to the stage. All I can think about is how Kara and Willow will have to watch me fight to the death.

* * *

**Hugo James, 13**

The only thing I can think about is how illogical this situation is. It was nearly impossible for me to be Reaped, and now I"m standing next to my partner and a Capitolite.

I'm screwed

* * *

**ANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD DONE. hope ya enjoyed.**

**What book was Marinda reading?**

**Why does Hugo dislike his father?**

**Who has a better chance with the Capitol?**

* * *

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**~Liv**


	10. D6 Reapings

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKK! **This is a present for kindnessandbravery. I am so sorry for her actions. I dedicate this chapter to you.** Anyways, I made a blog! There's a link on my profile for it.

So go check that out.

* * *

**Kaya Emile, 18**

I stare at the chicken that moves around on my kitchen table. It has pure white feathers which float around in the air. My father hands me the dagger used to kill animals. My hand wraps around the handle and I stare down the poultry. In a swift motion, the dagger slices the chicken's neck, making it emit a screeching sound. The knife lodges itself deeper, and with a final swing, the head falls away from the body. Blood stains the wood table and guts are spread out around it. My father grins and I give a meek smile back. He's alwyas tried to prepare me if I was Reaped. Exercising everyday, killing animals for food. Skills I would need in the arena.

My sleek black hair falls into my face and I absentmindedly brush it back into place. I reach over the chicken for a cutting board, knife, and rag, which were all assembled at the edge. I swipe the chicken onto the board and set it aside while I scrub at the drying blood. A door swings shut and I'm informed that my father has left the room. All the blood is now soaked into the rag. A smile finds it's way to my face. Today is my last Reaping, and this afternoon I will be free of the fear of going into the Games.

As I deftly skin, gut, and chop up the chicken I hear a tinkling come from next door. A customer has entered my father's repair sop, where I've worked since I was 16- the age I dropped out of school to help maintain the business.

The knife slices the edge of my finger, bringing blood to the surface. I wasn't paying attention and now I'm wounded. A curse escapes my mouth before I walk over to the tub of water kept for washing hands and submerge my hands. The metallic color of blood pools in the metal bin and I grab a towel to dry my hands before wrapping it in bandages from the local market.

"Kaya! You have a customer!" Dad peeks his head through the doorway that connects our home to the repair shop.

"OK, I'll be over in a minute," I inform him and grab a toolbox. I walk through the door and am handed a toy robot- probably a gift for a spoiled merchant's kid. The head is falling off due to loose springs, and the toy won't wind up and walk. Not a hard fix.

The kid that owns this is probably around 10. I smirk at the thought of them being Reaped in a few years, dressed fancily and unsuspecting.

* * *

**Mello Parkson, 16**

_"Let's play the Hunger Games, Mello!" Axle says. Not wanting to hurt Axle's feelings, I agree. Axle drew out a knife. He means the real Games. I run from him, not wanting to get hurt. I quickly scale a tree to discover a tree house, thinking I was safe from Axle. But then I saw his ginger hair and knew I was in deep trouble. Axle dives on me, slicing open my chest. I scream, and kick Axle in the knee, making him fall to the floor and drop the knife. I grab the knife and slice his neck open. Axle smiles at me before leaping out of the tree house and dying. _

The scene replays in my head. I killed a boy. Of course, Nikon and Brux (my friends) simply put the body by the train tracks and deemed it an accident. 13 years old and a murderer. But 2 years after that, I met my girlfriend of 1 year, Colette. I've had many lovers before, but Colette was the first girl I wanted to be serious with.

One of my 2 dogs jumps up onto my bed, and I laugh at the long string of drool wrapped it's nose. A tinkling laugh joins mine and I see Colette in the doorway of my room in the orphanage, blonde hair swishing and dark blue eyes shining. I smile at her, to which she blows a kiss back to.

"Have a nice sleep, Mel?" Colette asks me, voice laced with amusement. I nod my head and focus on petting Buddy's head.

"You should've - you slept till 12:00. The Reaping's in an hour," Colette informs me. I swing my legs out of bed, alarmed at how late I've slept. Just then I notice that Colette is dressed up. I groan. My girlfriend wags her finger at me before tossing me brown pants and a white shirt. I grab some combat boots and a leather jacket to go with it, as well as a lollipop.

Hey, I love sweet stuff.

You are what you eat.

* * *

**Kaya Emile, 18**

The toy was finished in minutes, for it wasn't that hard to fix (obviously). I watch as it clanks around on the metal table for a few seconds before dropping it in a bag and heading out the door.

"I'm gonna of deliver this!" I tell to my father. He nod. And continues talking to a customer. I break into a jog when I exit the shop, bag in one hand and address in the other. It's for some kid at an orphanage- Nikon? I shrug it off and continue running. It's about a 4 minute run.

My jog slows to a walk as I approach the orphanage. Children play in the front yard, kicking around an old and battered ball. I walk past a molding white fence, and walk up rotting steps. My hand grasps the silver knocker before I bang it down on the door. Scuffle sounds through the thin wood of the door, and a tall boy with scruffy black hair and piercing blue eyes opens it, hopping on one foot, attempting to put on a combat boot.

"I'm looking for Nikon Dri-" I'm cut off by the boy yelling over his shoulder.

"NIKON! Get your butt down here! That robot you made came back! Ya know, the one that you were gonna see if they did a better job at putting together than you?" he yells. He turns back around a smiles sheepishly. An albino boy appears behind him, with white hair and pearly red eyes. It's kinda creepy if you ask me. He snatches the bag and let's out a defeated sigh.

"You won," he mumbles before handing me the amount of money he was due. I glance at the two boys before walking away. The door slams, and I hear a string of curses leave someone's mouth.

"You idiot!" one seethes. I break into a sprint, not wanting to stay any longer. This is one of the darker parts of Six, a side I'm glad I was not born in. Crime is more common than jobs here, and young girls sell their bodies for money and food. I watch out of the corner of my eye as a girl no older than I am is dragged into an alley by a gang. I run faster, for I fear for my life. I could easily have a knife to my throat in seconds.

There is basically fear in the air. **(hahaha)**

* * *

**Mello Parkson, 16**

"You scared the poor girl!" Colette scolds me as we walk to the square, hand in hand.

"I did?" I question, and Colette laughs before punching my arm lightly.

"You know, for the 3rd smartest kid in Six, you aren't very bright," Colette says, shaking her head. I shrug and pat Buddy's head as I see Peacekeepers come into my vision.

"Okay, Buddy. Go back to the orphanage, and I'l meet ya after," I tell my dog before watching him run back home. He deftly dodges Peacekeepers, darting in and out of shadows. I chuckle ad he runs into a White Suit's legs, tripping him and letting profanities leave his mouth. We approach the table and I give Colette a good bye kiss when I get my finger zapped.

I head into the 16-year old male section, and pull a lollipop out of coat pocket. I stick it in my mouth as Jag walks up, looking horrid in his blue and pink striped suit and feather embedded skin. He taps the mic and clears his throat before starting.

* * *

**Kaya Emile, 18**

I stand by myself, surrounding by chattering females. I've never been one to trust or make friends easily. My eyes dart around the stage while Jag begins the video. It's my last year. My name is in the bowl 7 times. I'll be forever safe after today. I'll be able to live my life freely, without fear.

"Henceforth and forever more shall this pageant be called the Hunger Games..." Jag finishes before laughing.

"Don't you just love the Hunger Games!" Jag asks, giggling like a schoolgirl. no one answers and he stops abruptly.

"Wellllllll, let's mix things up. Boys first!" Jag announces, and he proceeds to walk over to the boy's Reaping bowl. His hand darts in and darts out, before the name escapes his lips.

* * *

**Mello Parkson, 16**

"Mello Parkson!" Jag exclaims. I look up and start walking, continuing to eat my candy.

"THE IRONY, HUH?" I shout to Brux and Nikon, trying to hide the fact that I was scared out of my pants. Jag looks disgusted as I walk onto the stage.

"Erm, well, uh, time for girls..." Jag trails off and sticks his hand in the girls Ball of Doom.

"Kaya Emile!"

* * *

**Kaya Emile, 18**

"Dammit," I mutter before making my way through the crowd, the sea of limbs parting for me. I hold my head up high as I walk onto the stage, and meet eyes with Mello. He's the boy with the weird friend- the one who's robot broke.

I stick out my hand and he begrudgingly shakes it.

I decide in that moment that I'm coming home.

* * *

**Mello Parkson, 16**

It's that girl, the one who fixed Nikon's robot. She wears a white blouse tucked into a brown skirt, and her grip is firm. I've heard stories of how she kills her own food and has basically trained for the GAmes her whole life. If everything they say is true. . .

I'm screwed.

* * *

**DONE. FINALLY. Anyways, here are da q's!**

**Which tribute appealed to you more?**

**Will Mello kill Kaya or Kaya kill Mello? (based on who's stronger or is more likely).**

**GO VOTE IN MAH POLL, PLEASE.**

* * *

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* * *

**Hope you liked it!**

**~Liv**


	11. D7 Reapings

I'm bacckkkkk!

**Warning: The following chapter contains gore, violence, and descriptive torture. (But not quite the Games gory)**

* * *

**Aiden Stross, 18**

The girl squirms beneath me, trying to escape her fate. She's got to be no older than 16, my oldest kill today. Her name is Penelope Johnson from what Brett, a member of my (very feared) gang told me.

"I just want to visit Rose!" Penelope whimpers. I grin wickedly a motion for Cleo, another member of my gang, to toss me a knife. I catch it with one hand and press the tip to Penelope's face. I dig a little deeper, creating a thin line of blood on her left cheek. Pressing even harder, the knife goes through Penelope's flesh and she screams, only to be muffled by Miles clamping a piece of cloth around her mouth.

Tears stream down her face as I make patterns on her stomach. I relish in seeing her in pain, the blood pouring out of her body. Lifting upwards, I slam the knife into her stomach, hilt deep, and listen to the muffled screams of my victim. I twist the knife around, trying to get the most blood out I can.

My knife moves to Penelope's knee, where I start sawing at the bone. Penelope withers in pain, her back arching and she tries to move. I get through about half the knee before cutting off each and every one of her left hand fingers.

I see the white bones stick out and pick up one of the fallen fingers. I snap it in half easily, and grab her thumb. Slowly but surely, I bend it until I hear a satisfying _snap _and bring the limp finger in front of my face, examining the white shard of bone sticking out. I faintly hear sobs, and decide to shut Penelope up for good. I take my knife and stab Penelope's temple, repeatedly, until the light in the teens eyes fades out.

"Nice job, Aiden," Sharmine says. She's the newest edition to the gang and only female. Probably the closest one to me.

"Yeah, but I could've done way better. That was quite puny, and I would have made it last longer and more painful," Cleo brags. Brett and I plan on killing him after the Reaping. Miles steps out of the shadows and motions towards a market across the block. I nod, and start walking towards it, getting ready to burn it down once we steal the needed food.

I watch as a girl with silver eyes and wavy brown hair crosses the street, calling for a girl named Penelope. I grin evilly- we just killed Penelope. Now we can kill her friend as well.

* * *

**Rose Rarity, 16**

I walk across town, looking for Penelope. It's not safe walking alone, for Aiden Stross's gang. The Pythons, lurk anywhere and everywhere, stealing, burning things down, and killing people. I just hope Penelope hasn't fallen to them. I stop in front of a market, examining some apples before deciding to buy one for Penelope. She's always nervous on the Reaping, and hungry. Clutching the polished red apple in hand, I hand the peddler a few coins and continue walking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall and muscular boy with long, brown hair falling down his neck with 3 other very dangerous looking teenagers. My shoulders tense up and I walk faster, not wanting to see if it's actually the Pythons. It's not cowardly- it's common sense. My feet carry me faster, and I stop in front of an alleyway. A large lump lies in it, not moving, and I cautiously approach it out of curiosity.

It's Penelope's dead body.

My eyes widen, not believing what they see. Penelope, my best friend, the one who stuck by my side... _dead. _I hear footsteps and turn around to be face-to-face with the Pythons. Aiden stands in front, his blade still coppery with blood. I stand up, anger boiling in my stomach. These assholes killed my best friend.

"Why, aren't we going to being killing a pretty one," the only girl giggles. Blood rushes to my face and I walk a small step closer.

"Don't try and escape sweetheart- or maybe we'll do more than kill you," Aiden hisses, chuckling darkly. His gang steps forwards and slightly to the right, leaving a small enough opening for my small body to get through. It'd be a tight fit, and I'd have to wait for them to be distracted. Taking a deep breath, I start to talk.

"You killed her, didn't you? What if she's Reaped? How will you explain that?' Well, actually you won't have to tell the Peacekeepers you killed an innocent girl." I ramble. Aiden moves closer, the gap widening even more.

"And why is that, sweetheart?" Aiden questions, breath tickling my face. Straightening my posture, I look him right in the eye.

"Because I will."

And with that, I slip through the gang and the wall and run. My feet pound against the cracked pavement, apple long forgotten. The wind stings my eyes as I run, and my stomach aches for food- I have yet to eat breakfast- but I don't stop. As I dodge through stands in the market, I hear a crash followed by some colorful words. Daring to look behind myself, I see Aiden chasing after me still, his gang knocking over stands.

And Aiden's gaining on me. Fast.

* * *

**Aiden Stross, 18**

I chase after the silver-eyed girl, leaving Cleo, Brett, and Sharmine to clean up the stands I knock over in my wake. Silver ducks into a dress shop, and I burst through the door to be met with a girl handing me an armful of dresses.

"Hang them up! And if you don't, forget a paycheck!" an old lady says to me, wagging some bills in my face. I shove the dresses back to her and burst into another room to be met with. . .

Changing girls.

"_GET OUT!" _they all shriek, probably bursting my ear drum in the process. Turning around quickly, I slam the door so hard I hear the sound of wood breaking. The old lady glares at me, blocking me between angry teenage girls and her- an angry old lady. Neither are very good choices. I finally think of a plan- pretend to put the dresses away and then run while I can.

Sweeping the clothing out of her arms, I sprint over to the front of the store, the old lady's glare burning holes into my back. Throwing a dress on a hanger, I quickly drop the others and kick them under the stand. My huge frame smashes through the door and I run to the rest of my gang, growling.

I let out a frustrated scream. No one has ever escaped me before, and frankly, I don't like it.

Silver is going to pay.

Big time.

* * *

**Rose Rarity, 16**

I breath a sigh of relief when Aiden leaves the dressing room. I start to tug the black, knee-length dress but Agatha, the old lady that owns the store, stops me.

"Oh no, Rose. You keep that, wear it to the Reaping. You just faced the most feared gang in the District. You deserve a little something," Agatha states, handing me a pair of black ballet flats to go with the dress. I beam and manage a thank you before sliding my feet into the shoes, leaving my wavy brown hair to stay down my back. I wave as Agatha takes me out the back door.

"Thanks, Agatha. I'll return the dress after the Reaping," I promise before heading back home. I've come here with Penelope before, and it's a short walk back to my house.

_'Left, right, straight, right, right' _Penelope's voice guides me. I blink away a tear as I walk up the steps to my house. I open the door and greet my 'mom' and dad. My real mother was kidnapped, or at least that's what my father tells me. I think it has something to do with the Games, though.

"Hey Rose!" Fianna greets. I flash her a smile before heading into my room and grabbing a brush for my long, wavy brown hair and wiping away a few stray tears. I've got to head to the Reaping- it starts in 10 minutes.

"Bye Mom, Dad!" I yell as I walk out the door with Fianna. She wraps her arm around my shoulders, even though she's only 2 years older than me. We talk, though I avoid bringing up Penelope.

A few yards in front of us is a huge boy, with long brown hair coming down to his neck. I freeze.

It's Aiden.**  
**

* * *

**Aiden Stross, 18**

I walk to the Reaping, exchanging jokes with Sharmine and Brett. Miles walks silently beside us, eyes darting all over the place.

"I'm going to volunteer!" i announce, and Sharmine looks up, worry lining her face. I know she likes me, but I don't care. I'll have fun breaking her heart.

"Aiden, are yo-" Sharmine is cut off my the lady asking for our fingers. I stab myself and slam my finger on the paper, blood spurting everywhere. The lady looks disgusted, and I give her the finger as I walk to the 18-year old section. Kings, our escort, walks to the stage in a chessboard like patterned suit.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome! Isn't the Reaping such a lovely affair!" he announces, as if people care what he has to say. Kings blabbers on and shows us a video on the Capitol and the rebellion before the Games, blah blah blah. He finally gets to the Reaping of the names.

Kings screws up- he sticks his hand into the male's bowl, the paper sticking to his hand. He pulls it out and examines it, furrowing his brow.

"Aiden Stross- but that's not a girls name? Did I- oh," Kings says, turning red from embarrassment. The crowd laughs and I walk up to the stage, trying to look intimidating as possible, glad I didn't have to volunteer. I watch in anticipation as he pulls out the girl's name.

* * *

**Rose Rarity, 16**

"Rose Rarity!" I'm going into the Games with Aiden. A murderer. Psycho. Cruel monster. But I have to come home. I walk numbly up to the stage, glaring at Aiden as he returns the stare. We grip each others hands, Aiden with a one-shattering grip. When he lets go, I slap him.

He looks at me in surprise, and balls his hands into fists before Kings stops us.

When the Games start, my first kill will be Aiden.

* * *

**...done... **

**School starts tomorrow, so I will try to update regularly but if it takes me a while, that's the reason.**

**Also, go check out TitanMaddix and read his stories! They are amazing!**

**Vote in my (new) poll as well. Oh yeah. Your favorite tribute so far issssssssssssss...**

**TERRA RYKER! So congrats.**

**Q's:**

**Why do you think Rose slapped Aiden?**

**Will Penelope's death make Rose preform better in the Games?**

**Should Aiden be in jail?**

* * *

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**Until next time, **

**~Liv**


	12. District 8 Reapings

Sorry for the wait. School is very stressful, and I've got a ton of homework. But anyways, here is the long awaited District 8 Reaping.

* * *

**Silvia Bobbinet, 15**

The whirring sound of machines. A small cough. Needles clacking. The quiet curse that escapes someones lips as the mess up stitching. All of these noises are completely normal and unimportant to others. The one's with bland minds. To me, they are noises that can be incorporated into a better life. A fantasy. A kingdom that I rule, with no Games and my parents murderer found with treason. I am the queen in this palace. Silvia Bobbinet is not the quiet girl who works with a threading machine in a fabric company.

She is royalty.

But not in reality.

It doesn't hurt to hope. No, if anything, hope is what has gotten me through this past year with my parents dying and me staying away from the orphanage and trying to keep enough money to pay for electricity and clean water in my shack of a home. Many say hope is useless. Others state that hope is a waste of space. That hope will only weigh you down. But really, hop-

"Silvia! You aren't supposed to be here today!" the sharp voice of Lysa my boss, snaps at me. I look up immediately, my fabric work forgotten in seconds.

"I- Lysa, I nee- I need the money," I stutter, taken aback by her words. Lysa glares at me before snatching up the cloth I was working on and taking out a pair of scissors. In a few quick snips, the almost finished item is in shreds, useless. A yelp escapes my mouth. She just cut up money. A piece of my soul, my hard work and dedication. In some cases, she just ruined the queens ballgown. She is the step-mother and I am Cinderella.

"Leave. _Now," _Lysa hisses, shoving me out the door. I run through the building, wavy brown hair flying behind me. My feet slow down after I'm a good mile away from the building, my shack of a house still a good half mile away.

As I was saying, hope isn't what others say. Hope is what overpowers everything. Even fear.

And as long as I have hope, I can survive.

* * *

**Dorian Ross, 17**

"- if someone is to backtalk, you have the choice to have them put under arrest immediately or to let it go. You will be respected if you throw them in jail. Ignore something and no one will take you seriously. It's your choice," my father, also named Dorian, instructs me. I'm training to be a Peacekeeper like my father, and there's no rest in studying for it. Even on a day like this. The Reaping's in just half an hour, but does that stop my father from cramming my head full of crap on the law and how to behave as a Capitol guard? Hell no.

Sure, I can't wait to become a Peacekeeper and enforce the law. Yet I would also like to live my life, go hang out with Jasper, do _something _that doesn't involve work. Honestly, I just want to survive the Reaping.

"_Dorian! _Are you even listening?" my father asks, clearly exasperated. Shaking my head no, he sighs, running his fingers through his dark brown hair. It's a gesture I'm used to- he does it whenever he is tired, exhausted, etc. He's been doing it a lot more often, lately, and the house is filled with nervousness. The Reaping week usually flies by, being dismissed as just a pesky holiday.

With my mother, Lysa, being an administrator in a textile factory and my father a Peacekeeper, I've never been afraid during the Reaping. Tesserae isn't a problem, my name is in the bowl only 5 times. I know 12 year olds with a higher chance of me being picked, so I don't fret.

"Just go over to Jasper's or some bull like that. I don't even care anymore!" Father exclaims, eyes flaring with anger. Something must be bothering him- he's never like this. If being a Peacekeeper can bring my father to this level of emotions, then I have no idea what I'm getting myself into.

I run up the stairs, grabbing a light jacket before running to Jasper's house. My feet hitting the pavement becomes a steady rhythm, repeating itself one after another.

_Thump_

_Thump_

_Thump_

Soon I'm standing in front of the oh-so familiar black door I've faced so many times before. I take a deep breath, refilling my lungs with the needed oxygen. My fist beats down on the door, and is almost opened as soon as I bring my knuckles across the hard wood. Jasper stands in front of me.

Filling him in on what happened, his face becomes more surprised as I finish my story. Giving a light chuckle, he smirks before telling me something.

"Dude. You are _soooo _screwed with your job,"

* * *

**Silvia Bobbinet, 15**

My small home isn't much. It's slowly crumbling, and the roof is caving in over my "kitchen", A.K.A a small stove and bucket full of ice. But its wrongs make it easier for me to imagine it as something much better. The cobwebs that line the doorway can easily be transformed into luxurious gold streamers. Just as quickly as my broken floorboard can become a doorway to a secret room.

Even the wood stained with my parents blood can become spilled red wine from when I ran into the prince at a ball. Me, a peasant girl, catching the eye of a handsome and rich prince because of clumsiness.

The best things really come out of the worst if you stop and think. Well, not really. You just have to have an active imagination. Or just an imagination. A creative mind. Something that's better than reality. An escape.

A loud knock on the door startles me, making me jump up quickly and knock down last night's dinner plate. It clatters to the floor, wobbling for a second before standing still. Walking over to the door, I swing back the slab of wood to be met with the face of a Peacekeeper.

"The Reaping starts in 15 minutes, Miss. I suggest you start to get ready so you are not late," he instructs, voice kind unlike others. My face flushes- how could I forget to Reaping? Mumbling a thank you, I shut the door and walk over to my small closet. I grab a gray blouse and white pair of pants, throwing off my jeans and black shirt required in the factory.

While I pull on my pants, I throw my unruly brown hair into a side ponytail and slip on some black flats. I finished in 3 minutes, a record for me. Running out the door, I see parents looking terrified as they watch their children walk away to their possible death. I break into a sprint, avoiding stray animals and people, and run to the square. It's packed with people, and the lines for our fingers are incredibly long.

Thinking fast, I jump to the front of the line and stab myself, smearing it on the paper. I then run over to my section- the 15 year olds. Shouts of angry teens follow after me, but I'm already safe.

* * *

**Dorian Ross, 17**

I stand in the 17 year old section with Jasper, joking about random stuff like my job and who'll be picked and such. Jasper says that it'll be a puny 13 year old in the female and a buff 18 year old male.

"No- it's gonna most definitely be a 16 and 17 year old," I reply, sarcasm easily weaved into words. District 8 is one of the poorer Districts, and we haven't won in seven years. We are almost always marked off as a bloodbath District, and the few times we win it's amazing.

The 22nd Games- 17 year old female tribute Peyton Jered brutally murdered 7 people by weaving traps out of grass and slicing up tributes with a sword that for caught in her net.

31st Games- 15 year old Daryl Thesis won by using his wit and hiding. He didn't actually kill anyone, but it was a win nonetheless.

Perseus Weq, our escort, walks to the stage in his bland beige suit. He looks like a businessman, and doesn't care about the tributes whatsoever. He speaks like a robot and everyone knows he's escort because he's President Petron's favorite nephew.

"Hello. Here is the video," Perseus says mechanically, sounding extremely bored. He plays the video, an it speaks of the Dark Days. It lasts a few minutes before Perseus cuts it off abruptly.

"You all know it. I hate it. So here's our female tribute." He says, yawning after finishing his sentence. Reaching into the glass bowl, he pulls out that tiny slip of paper that can change someone's life.

* * *

**Silvia Bobbinet, 15**

"Silvia Bobbinet," Perseus announces. Emotions fly through me, including fear, hate, and loss. I want to scream, cry. But I can't stand out. My body trembles as I walk through crowd. I rub my mother's wedding ring, which acts as my token.

The crowd parts for me. I am their princess going through coronation. I am about to be given the crown.

Perseus glares at me as I walk up the steps. He is jealous of my power- he is just a servant in this cruel, cruel world. While I am in charge.

"Hurry up, princess" he snarls, node turned upwards. I stand next to him, my body still shaking. He reaches into the boys bowl and pulls out the dreaded piece of white material that will kill an innocent bystander.

"Dorian Ross!"

* * *

**Dorian Ross, 17**

Was this why ny father was worried? Did his actions cause ny name to be read? The possibilities fly through my head as I hear my name said. Letting out a long sigh, I walk straight ahead.

The stage isn't far away. Meaning ny life, my freedom, is forever gone once j reach the podium. Once I stand next to Silvia. My legs shake the slightest bit as I walk up. We hands, and all I can think about is how controlled this life is.

One wrong move and you are dead.

* * *

**DONE**. **FINALLY. Sorry for the wait. But yeah. Go vote in my new poll. By the way, our strongest District is...**

**TWO! Yay. Anyways. **

**Will Dorians training come in handy?**

**Will Silvias imagination get her through the Games?**

**Which one is not likely to last longer?**

* * *

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**I just want to remind you all that TitanMaddix's stories are awesome and YOU NEED TO GO READ THEM. Every review from you on his stories = 2 points here. So yeah. But that's only valid August 31st- September 2nd.**

**Another thing: Some of y'all's reviews crack me up. (I'm looking at you, SheerwaterPhoenix). So I wanna thank you all for being awesome and stuff. **

**Until next time,**

**~Liv**


	13. D9 Reapings

YAY! Update. So yeah. Here's Nine. I'll try and do a double update since it's been so long. _**TRY.**_

* * *

**Alessia Arlen, 17**

A laugh escapes my lips as Ajax and I run through the fields of grain. We chop down the wheat with our scythes, our hair flying behind us. We've been up since 2:00 AM this morning, where we illegally picnicked in the fields. Even though I only got a few hours of sleep, I couldn't be more alive. No one else ever seems to enjoy working with grain, but I love it. It's one of the places I get to be free, running away from everything. The adrenaline rush is what I really love. Being able to escape a controlled environment and the risk of being caught is amazing.

Ajax stops, clutching his chest. I skid a few feet before coming to a stop as well. I drop the curved blade, and pick up the brown sack that I collect the wheat in. There is two at the end of each row, resulting in me tossing one to Ajax. He dexterously catches it with one hand, keeping hold of his scythe in the other. I sweep up the nearest stalks, the grain tickling my palms.

A bloodcurdling scream fills the air, only a few rows over. Dropping my bag, I run through the rows of crops, ignoring how some scratches my face. Coming to the row, I see a circle surrounding someone. I push my way through the crowd to see a little girl lying on the ground, withering. She can't be more than 14, and a puncture hole is near her ankle. An image of a red and yellow snake flashes through my mind and I know she's been bitten by one of the venomous snakes that live here in the fields of Nine. They're Capitol programmed, and one bite can kill you.

She's pale and shaking, sweat plastered to her forhead. I kneel beside her, and she clutches my arm. A small line of blood bribbles from her mouth, and her eyes dart all over the place. She tightens her grip, and I flinch as her nails dig into my skin.

"Please... Milo... tell him that I said yes," she pleads, and I nod my head. The skin beneath her hand breaks and the red liquid that keeps me alive rolls down my amr. She thrashes about and I hold her still while someone comes over, feeling her forehead.

The girl forms an O with both hands over her heart, which is a code we use in the fields of District Nine. When someone is bit by a Red and Yellow, it's normally more painful than death itself. So we use it if we are bit and it's too much pain, so someone can kill us. Ajax comes over next to me, and hands a boy my age named Torn his scythe. I stand up and step back, getting ready to watch another innocent victim of the Capitol be killed.

* * *

**Torn Bronson, 17**

Alessia steps back and I ready my scythe to help the girl out. She shivers, blood still pouring out of her wound. Closing my eyes, I bring the blade down. It strikes her in the heart, and she lets out a scream before stopping. I bring the blade down again, and she looks at me with a scared look. The tip of the blade enters her chest and she draws in a deep breath, not letting it out.

I lean down, listening for breath but I find none. Ajax picks the girl up, cradling her in his arms. Her head lolls back, lifeless green eyes staring me down. Something like this happens every few months, and it's not like I haven't killed someone for this before. But at least I'm not the one who has to go knocking on the girl's parents door.

_Helped. You helped her. She wanted to die, she pleaded._

It happens every time. I don't want to kill them- just like I didn't want to get addicted to Morphling like my runaway father. But I still did, and my mother helped me get out of it. Only fair I work my butt off in the fields.

"Nice job, Torn," Ajax says, patting my back. I meekly smile back at him, my stomach still doing flip-flops from killing the girl. At least I'm not the one who goes knocking on her family's door to deliever the news. Even though _helping _someone is hard enough, seeing a mother or father's face when they hear that their child died in work is beyond depressing.

"Ajax, tell the boss I wasn't feeling well. I'm skipping the rest of the day," I declare, and Ajax simply smirks before nodding his head.

"Oh and you two- good luck at the Reaping," I say before turning around again.

"You, too!" Alessia calls back and I flash her a smile. Time to escape these dreaded fields.

* * *

**Alessia Arlen, 17**

"Alesia, did you see a girl about yay height, green eyes, tan skin, and brown hair in the fields today?" Milo asks as soon as I walk in. I freeze, remembering the dead girl that fits his description perfectly. _Tell Milo I said yes._

"What about her?" I catiously ask, looking at my younger brother. He beams at me before continuing.

"Well, her name is Ana and I finally got the guts to ask her out. You know, not everyone can be extremely brave like you," he continues. I take a deep breath before dropping the wad of cash on our dining table. Beckoning Milo closer, I raun my hair through my long, sleek black hair before sitting down.

"Milo, you're aware of the venomous snakes in the fields, right?" I ask, try to be discreet so I don't have to add onto the sadness that's already evident in Milo's face due to the fact that it's the Reaping. His head nods a yes and I continue.

"And you are aware of how most victims ask to be killed while suffering from a bite? Well, we had a snake attack today."

Horror fills my brother's face and I pull him into a hug. Milo's body shakes a little and I know he wants to scream at the world about how unfair life is, but he can't do it.

"She told me yes," I whisper in my brother's ear, and he pulls away from me. No tears are seen, but rage is evident. He storms out the house, our small wooden door slamming behind him. I stand up and peel off the lightweight black hoodie I wear during work and walk over to the hall that holds my and my brother's bedrooms. It's dimly lit, giving it an eerie feel as I walk through it. Pushing open my door, I'm met with the famliar smell of vanilla and sweat. Odd combination, but it's calming. It lets me know that the horrible day of work is behind me, and good things ahead of me.

_Other than the Reaping._

Speaking of the Reaping, I glance at my clock to be met with the time 12:45. 15 minutes till the Death Bowl. That means 15 minutes of safety. Quickly stripping of my jean overalls and heavy comabt boots, I throw on a complimenting black dress that goes nicely with my dark brown skin. It's a dress that blends in with Nine, but it's a perfect Reaping dress nontheless.

I walk out the door, my parents still working. They'll see me later today.

That is, if I survive.

* * *

**Torn Bronson, 17**

The square is crowded, but I got here early so I wouldn't be stuck at the very back or stuck in the uber long line to have my blood registered. I'm surrounded by thousands of nervous and jittery teens, which is some sort of reassurance. The fact that even though I take tesserae, there are others who have it much worse. Of course I am some sort of nervous, but not overly so.

Hazel, our escort, walks to the stage. She's dressed like one of the richer 18 year olds, in a simple white dress. Her pale skin blends in with the dress, the only thing giving her color is her mahogany colored hair. Her demeanor is one of those as a 19-year old child- a sense of relief as well as nervousness for the younger ones. To be honest, Hazel is probably one of the best escorts there are. She's not some fake, oversized barbie from the Capitol, but the offspring of a very well-known Peacekeeper, earning her a favorite spot among the Outer Districts.

"Hello, District Nine. The sad day is upon us once more, one that we wish to prevent but cannot. One which we fear and others scream in joy. But alas, we still have to celebrate it. Now, time for a video explaining this day for you all." Hazel finishes, her voice full of sorrow, and the creen behind her flickers to life.

It shows footage from the Dark Days, how horrible life seemed. In all honesty, a war-wrecked world is better than a Hunger Games one. I watch as mangled limbs are strewn through a landscape, a mother holding her dead child.

I'm reminded of the girl from the fields, who I've been imformed was named Ana. It shows that people can die all of a sudden, even without the Games. And young children, as well. Children who haven't even reached kindergarten yet die of starvation. Distracted in my thoughts, I miss Hazel's heartfelt speech and zone back in just in time as she draws our female tribute.

"Ana Mathers!" she calls out, and a yelp comes from the 14-year old male section. The Mayor steps up and whispers something in Hazel's ear, causing her to cry out, dropping the slip. A single tear makes way down her face as she announces the news.

"Ana Mathers was killed in a tragic accident in the fields at approximentally 11:07. We have been informed that there was a snake and scythe wound." Hazel finishes, blinking back more tears. Her hand drops in to the bowl again, drawing out a different girl's name.

"Alessia Arlen!"

* * *

**Alessia Arlen, 17**

If Reaping a dead girl isn't bad enough, Reaping a newly engaged one is worse. Ajax proposed to me as soon as I left my house, saying that if we survived this Reaping we'd get married despite next year. I shake my head in disbelief as I push my way through the crowd to the stage, my beautiful silver anklet with ''Arlen" inscribed on it clinking against my ankle.

As I stand next to Hazel, I scan the crowd for Ajax. He's shocked and mouths _I love you. _Smling, I give him a nod before watching Hazel dipping her hand in the huge bowl of boy's names. She shakily pulls one out before reading the cursively written name.

"Torn Bronson"

I check to make sure it's the same Torn I know. He walks out of the 17-year old section, scruffy brown hair disheveled and pale skin dressed in a nice pair of black dress pants and a white shirt. He says something to his friends- _I'm sorry._

Torn stands on the stage, and we hug instead of shake hands.

What's worse than Reaping a dead girl, and then an engagaed one?

Reaping the girl's finacee's best friend.

* * *

**DONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. WOOWOO. SORRY FOR LONG WAIT. MY CAps lock is now no longer on. So uhh, spellcheck isn't working so no little red lines to see spelling errors. I try my best, but yeahhh.**

**Your strongest Outer District is Seven! Yay Aiden and Rose.**

**Now go vote in the new poll xD**

**Q's: **

**What tribute is more likely to break down in the Games?**

**Who will fight harder, Alessia or Torn?**

* * *

SPONSOR POINTS

SO I forgot to mention that linfox donated 5 points to Imetc 2 chapters ago, so Imma just give Imetc 10 points since I'm including those earlier chapters as well. Speaking of Imetc, they are the only one who has cracked the code on my arena blog! (link in bio). So 50 points to you.

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* * *

**Until next time**

**~Liv**


	14. D10 Reapings

DON'T. KILL. ME. I KNOW IT'S BEEN A MONTH. NO, THE STORY WAS NOT/ NEVER WILL BE ON HIATUS. STOP. ASKING. Hope you enjoy :D

* * *

**Capricorn Caverly, 18**

The knives flash through the air as I juggle them outside the butchery. Pedestrians stop when they walk past, whether to marvel at my skills, extreme handsomeness, or all the very noticeable scars covering my bare back and chest. They're from all the whippings I've received over the years, but have I ever cried? Not once. Even if I have an extreme fear of whips, but no one knows that.

A knife clatters to the ground, and the air fills with evident disappointment. It's not that I can't do this for hours, it's that I have to slaughter cows before the Reaping or be punished for slacking off. Besides, I do my spectacle every day, it's nothing unusual. As the crowd departs, I wink at a few of the girls, watching them giggle and blood rush to their cheeks. Then, I give them the finger before throwing one of my knives at them, watching it sink into one girls arm as the blood pours out to the ground. **(Well that escalated quickly)** She screams, and her friends run away. No one stops to help her. Ten isn't a warm District like Eight or Three. You'll be damned if you ever think you can trust someone in the District.

Suddenly, a knife- _my knife_- is thrown at me. It's the bleeding girl. I make my way over to her, quickly slitting her throat and walking away. I'd normally cut her gut, hold her intestines as her blood pours out, and I'd simply look on. **(Claire I made that reference for you and I sure hope you get it)**

_Blood. The warmth of it in my hands, the feeling of satisfaction. It's no longer alive, I overpowered it. Murder, killing, the adrenaline rush. **NO.**_

I mentally slap myself for thinking like that again, especially in public. Hurrying to the butcher's shop that's behind me, I grab a clean cleaver sword before practically running to the stock of fresh animals. Hefting the weapon, I hurl it into a squealing pig, dead within seconds. I let myself get lost in the process, letting guts and gore stain my jeans. I lose track of how many are now gone, the satisfaction of killing too overpowering for me to process.

_Death. Hacking into the victim's neck, giggling with satisfaction as they look at you, eyes dull. The feeling of victory- you took their life, and at no cost._

I move onto the cows, for they take more energy, more anger to kill. Yet with the rage inside me, I doubt it will take long for them to go. Contentment fills my body as I watch the black and white mammal fall to the ground, it's internal organs spread across the stone floor. A deep breath escapes my mouth as I realize what a mess I made. At least 10 dead animals litter the floor, their carcasses still bleeding heavily and their bones sticking through their skin.

_Bones. The fractured shards stick out, covered in red liquid. They stand out, cleanly snapped. Another down. Nothing will stop me now- these shards give me the sick gratification of knowing that I am the most powerful._

And with that, I begin to clean.

* * *

**Tygres Hammil, 16**

"Hans! I swear to god if you don't help me with these goats I'll tie you up and throw you off a cliff!" I yell, voice hoarse **(Horse? Ten is livestock? No? Ok). **I scan the woods before sprinting towards a tall oak. Quickly scaling the tree, I peer into the crowded leaves and spot the mousy head of my best friend. Pulling myself up to his branch, I sit next to him. smiling sweetly.

"Hey Hans. I've got something for you," I purr, batting my eyelashes. Hans blushes, cheeks cherry red. I giggle as I lean in closer, closer, closer. . . .

_SNAP!_

My rope finds it's way to Hans's legs, and I tie him up, hanging him by his ankles, upside-down, on the tree branch. His mouth is agape, staring at me, and I nearly fall out of the tree laughing. He struggles against my tight binds that I've created. Hans's effort is useless- I've been able to tie a knot before I could walk.

"Tygres! C'mon, lemme down! I'll help you with the goats-hell, I'll do the goats by myself, but this ain't funny!" Hans complains. I shake my head, and push back the hair that flew into my face. He uses a puppy dog face, and I can't resist- he's my best friend, after all. Taking my pocket knife out of my boot, I slice the rope and Hans falls a few feet before grabbing to a tree branch and swinging his way to the ground. I follow after him, my jacket and hair getting caught on a few branches during the I'm about 10 feet from the ground, I jump and land with a roll.

Hans pulls me up and I wipe the dirt off my jeans as we walk back to the herding farm. It's a chilly day in Ten- then again, when isn't it? The walk back is silent an peaceful, exactly what I need on the Reaping day. Everyone needs it. A brown and silver border comes into view, and I smirk before looking at Hans.

"Race ya. Loser cleans up goat dung."

* * *

**Capricorn Caverly, 18**

"Hey, Cap!" my mother greets and I nod towards her, removing my muck covered boots outside the screen door on our porch. No mud or blood in the house, Ma says. She's at the stove cooking a Reaping day special- chicken, pea, and carrot soup, a family favorite. I greet her with a kiss on the cheek before washing my hands in the basin beside her and grabbing a spoon. Ten has a later Reaping day- at 1:30- since it's at the edge of Panem, so it's appropriate for me to be eating at the moment. I slip some of the hot broth in my mouth and swallow, trying to savor the flavor.

"It's great as usual, Ma." I compliment her and she smiles and reaches up to ruffle my spiky, dark brown hair. She frowns when she sees the whiskers of a beard, looking at me disapprovingly. I reach for another spoonful, but my hand is smacked away.

"No more till after the Reaping, boy! Which is in 15 minutes. Go get dressed, and shave that beard while you're at it!" She states, and I smirk before heading up the stairs. Ma is probably the person who is most aggravated by appearances in the whole District. 'Can't have her boy looking jobless' the townspeople joke.

I quickly throw on a nicer pair of jeans and a white t-shirt before hesitantly adding in a brown jacket. It's only 40 degrees outside **(4.4 degrees Celsius)**, and Ten always has strong winds. It's probably the harshest weather District next to Two.

I trudge back downstairs and gratefully take the toasted piece of bread I'm handed before saying good-bye. I slip on my combat boots that are by the door and start on my way to the square. I'll meet my sister, Galloway, on the way there, for she was at the local vet, volunteering. She's absolutely addicted to animals as one is addicted to Morphling.

My finger is stabbed and stamped, and I wait for Galloway by the table. She should've been here by now, but who knows what might be happening at the vet? after a few more minutes of waiting, I head into the 18-year old section and watch as our escort, who I didn't bother to learn the name of, fumbles with the mic. He taps it once and it emits a loud screeching noise before he starts talking.

"There has been a tragic accident at your local animal hospital. A bleeding and armed with one knife girl set the place on fire" my heart pounds. Galloway, is she okay?

"But no one was killed. The few volunteers are severely wounded, and can probably survive one month before dying if not given medical help. I am sorry! But life goes on! So, let's watch our video!" the preppy Capitolite announces, and rage boils inside me.

Poor, poor Galloway.

* * *

**Tygres Hammil, 16**

My heart pangs with grief as the escort announces the tragedy. Those poor people.

Soon enough, the video is over, and the Satan-Spawn reaches into the bowl of names to read the unlucky lady's name. The slip unfolds, and the man holds it up to the crowd before announcing;

"Tygres Hammil!"

My fists form balls and my teeth clench as I walk up to the Penalty Podium, internally screaming. My dirty blonde hair falls into my eyes as I stand next to the escort..

Of course it's me.

"Capricorn Caverly!"

* * *

**Capricorn Caverly, 18**

"Just my luck," I mutter, and push my way through the crowd. I emerge onto the stage and shake hands with Tygres, and I haven newfound strength.

I'll win for Galloway. Then, we can afford medical help. Yes.

For Galloway.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed! Sorry bout the wait. Don't kill me. **

**Q's**

**Tygres or Capricorn (favorite?)**

**Input on Capricorn's new found strength?**

**Is Ten a bloodbath?**

**You guys liked Frosty's Remains the best. Go vote in the new one!**

* * *

**SPONSOR POINTS**

Imetc donated 5 points to linfox. Linfox donated to Imetc, and she cracked the sponsor code! So 50 points to you.

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	15. D11 Reapings

*le gasp* CHAPTER!

* * *

**Sammy Levanson, 12**

The cold wind bites at me, and I shiver through my thin coat. It wouldn't provide any protection should I be plumper, so it's good for my frail body. My body is also useful because when I hide stolen food I look like a normal boy.

_Food._

My stomach growls at the thought, and I stop under an oak to rest. I haven't eaten for seven days now, but I've become accustomed to it. Starving is a way of life for me. It's just that on the Reaping day, everyone is cooking special foods and the scents waft through the air, landing underneath my gangly nose. Luckily, the vendors are a little more generous on days like this, so it's easy to scam them. Especially easy when they ask for your parents and you can tell them they're dead without lying.

I stand up from my resting spot and continue towards the market. If I can't score anything there, I'll heads toward the apple orchards, where the children keep 1/16 of what they pick. Easy enough to blend in with them- I've done it before. No one will give the scrawny, homeless kid a second glance. Why should they? Kids like me are at least half of Eleven's population, with orphanage's more common than mansions. I doubt there's any rich kids in the District.

Except for that filthy scum of a millionaire's daughter, the sweet-voiced, two-faced, back-stabbing Harmony Kingsley. But nevermind her.

As I approach the stands, I shrink into my rag of a jacket to appear even smaller. My feet thud against the pavement as I stand in front of a peddler selling fresh, scrambled eggs- a rarity here in Eleven. My mouth waters at the sight, but I hide my hunger as I begin my act.

"I can afford it," the lie comes out as a whisper, and the man looks at me surprised. He scoops some onto a disposable plate before holding out his palm, wanting money. I pretend to reach into my pocket for "money". Putting on a worried face, I burst into tears and the man looks around, motioning for me to shut up. Eleven may be filled with orphans, but a mother will stand up for one of them if she sees them being mistreated. The Mom Code.

"What is it?" Mr. Vendor hisses, offering small smiles to approaching women. They glance at each other and a few scoot closer, wanting to hear the rest of the conversation.

"YOU CHARLATAN! HE STOLE MY MONEY AND REFUSES TO GIVE ME MY FOOD!" I sob, and the man's face flares with rage. Red covers his brown skin as a mother comes over to me, holding my shoulders as if I were her own.

"The brat is lying!" Peddler Man shouts, pointing a stubby finger at my face, and I break into heart-wrenching sobs. A horrified gasp escapes the lady's mouth behind me, and she smacks the finger away.

"Aine, how could you? Give me the food. Make the plate _heaping _with mountains of eggs. Now!" I recognize the voice as Hana's, the local doctor. Aine unwillingly hands over the food, as well as a plastic fork. Hana hands me the plate before kissing my forehead and hurrying away. I smirk at the man before going away with my prize, hands burning from holding the heated, thin plate. I reach my oak and sit down to eat.

It's bad to stuff yourself after starving, so I take small bites. A young girl by the name of Kaelan who I share my alleyway with sits next to me, her big brown eyes begging for food. I put the plate in between us, and she uses her hands to pick up some of the delicious yolk. We always share our rewards with each other, and any other orphans who happen to wander into our territory. It's a rule- share with others, even when you have little to share.

Those were the last words my mother told me, and I plan to live by them my whole life.

* * *

**Harmony Kingsley, 15**

I offer a giggle as I finish my song, and my pink dress swishes around me. The crowd roars with applause, and I curtsy, my knees almost hitting the ground. I can't bow, for my tiara would fall off, which would be a huge embarrassment. I'm too pretty to be an embarrassment, my daddy says. We're too rich for me to screw up, that's for the poor kids. After all, the poor scum deserve to be mistreated. It's not like they're worth anything. So why should I have to suffer when the penniless peasants can take the blame?

As I skip off the stage, I stop in front of my manager and scowl.

"The idiotic, needy, orphans screwed up the beginning spotlights! They made the lights so it looked like I was superficial!" I wail, and mascara streaks stain my cheeks as I cry. Life isn't fair, the poor kids messing me up in front of the rich Capitolites who pay thousands to see me and hear my beautiful voice. And then the penniless people come mix things up, which they shouldn't be allowed to do.

"Miss Kingsley, I am aware of this horrible situation. What would you like their punishment to be?" My manager asks, his voice soothing.

"Execution!" I shriek, and let loose another sob as my stained black tears fall onto my pretty dress. I cry even harder- everything is going wrong today, not to mention I have to go to the boring, yet exciting, event where they get rid of the poor, ugly kids. My daddy told me that I'll never get picked, because the Capitol thinks I'm too gorgeous to go and filthy myself in the Games.

"Okay, Harmony, here are the two that made your performance repulsive at the beginning." Mr. Fisher says, and he shoves two young street-rats in front of him. One is a girl with yellow smeared across her face, and she's nastily thin. She can't be more than 9. The other is a boy with a similar substance on his face, but he's a tad fatter, which isn't much. He's probably around 12.

"Their names are Sammy and Kaelan. We found them eating stolen food and told them that if they came to work for you today, we wouldn't snitch and we'd also give them enough money to buy three full meals for a month. Should we turn them in so they get ten lashes each since they stole, execute them, or only give them money for two weeks instead?" Fisher asks, and I ponder about what he offers me. What can I do to ruin them completely, worse than execution? An evil grin lights up my face.

I motion for the imperfect children to leave, and they scurry away.

"It's the boy's first Reaping, isn't it? The two are clearly close, and would die without another. So, make the boy get Reaped. Then, when the girl turns twelve, have her chosen. Tear them apart, make them suffer. But give the girl the money. Make them think I didn't give them a punishment. And get a close up of their face's when Sammy's Reaped, and killed in the bloodbath." I demand, and Fisher looks taken aback before nodding and heading away to do his chore.

I giggle manically.

Their lives will be destroyed within an hour.

* * *

**Sammy Levanson, 12**

Kaelan and I run from the stage, leaving the show and Harmony behind us. I might be dead by the end of the Reaping because I accidentally flipped a switch, making Harmony's 20 pounds of makeup shine. To be honest, the bitch deserved to be much more embarrassed than she was, but Kaelan might have another chance if Harmony does decide to kill us.

I stop running, breathing heavily, and look over at Kaelan. She's crying, her tears leaving clean trails on her dirt stained face. I walk over to her, squatting and she jumps onto my back. Kae is light as a feather, so I feel nothing as I finish running the rest of the half mile to our alley. Stopping outside of the entrance to it, I send Kaelane to go pick some of the fallen apples outside of the orchards.

I shimmy out of my sweat-soaked average rags and throw on some of my jeans with only a few holes and a white collared shirt that's 2 sizes too small for me. But it's one of the only nice shirts I own, so it makes do. My beat up dress shoes are soon tied onto my feet, and I'm pulling on my jacket when Kaelane comes back, a brown sack slung over her shoulder.

"I was able to slip to the top of the trees, the Peacekeeper didn't notice. So we have some fresh apples for an After-Reaping dinner," Kaelan states, her voice high and quivering. I smile at the young girl. I've been with Kae since she was just 3, and she's my only "family" I have.

"Thanks, Kae. Get dressed and we can head onto the Death Bowl, and collect our tesserae so we can make some bread at the orphanage's bakery. Then, we can get some sugar and cinnamon and make a special breakfast for tomorrow," I grin, hinting at making one of Kaelan's favorite foods- cooked, cinnamon-sugar apples on bread. It's like a poorer version of apple pie, you could say.

I turn away when Kaelan reaches into her cardboard box where she keeps her clothes. She taps my shoulder when she's done, and I can see that she has a new dress on- it's a slightly worn, fraying, simple white dress, but it's much more than we could ever afford with the few coins we keep for clothing. I gasp.

"Kae, where'd you get it?"

"That rich scum had some old dresses outback, in her 'dumpster'. I figured it wouldn't hurt to take one. I might be too young to be REaped, but that doesn't meann I can't look my best." Kaelan states boldly, and I swing my arm around her shoulder, hugging her to my side.

"Let's go to the Reaping," I state, Kaelan leaning into my side more as we leave the alley.

I've got to keep her close, for she could be torn from me within moments.

* * *

**Harmony Kingsley, 15**

My servant hands me a pair of silver, studded heels to match my shimmery gold dress. Another hands me my tiara, which I place on my bouncy curls before shooing them away. I hop up from my seat and twirl around, letting the silky fabric brush against my legs. I look beautiful- long, bouncy brown curls and coffee colored skin. No one would deny that I'm beautiful, and if they do, they're horribly mistaken.

I exit my room, slamming the door behind me as I walk down the spiral staircase to the kitchen. Assistants and Avoxes scurry around, carrying papers and steaming cups of tea for my mother, hard cider for my father. I prop myself upon one of the bar stools and gladly accept a bowl of yogurt embellished with fruits and oats. Next is a plate of sausage, and then a sparkling glass of fresh orange juice.

After I finish my meal, I jump to the ground and head out the door to my daddy's horse drawn carriage. I get in, making myself comfortable on the cushiony seats. The horses start, and I pull off my shoes and tiara, placing them on the bench across from me. I kick my legs up under me and watch the poor kids walk past, a particular pair catching my eye.

Kaelan and Sammy are huddled up against each other, like they're each other's lifeline as they pass through the River Styx, in hell. And once Sammy is Reaped, they'll literally be in a hellhole. Kaelan won't be able to live on her own and Sammy will be dead in the first five minutes.

The carriage stops abruptly, and I grab my things, throwing my shoes and crown back on before exiting the cart. My heeled feet thud against the pavement as I walk to the line, shoving my way to the front to get pricked. My finger stamps the paper and I head to my section. The girls part for me, and I stand tall and graceful.

Orchid, the escort, comes onto stage dressed as. . . a lemon. She excitedly announces news about the Games, and I zone out until she heads to the boy's bowl. She's always done it backwards. A look of smugness crosses my face as she draws the slip.

"Sammy Levanson!"

Two sobs are heard at once, and Sammy's dragged to the stage by Peacekeepers.

"Harmony Kingsley!"

I freeze, and burst into sobs as I walk to the stage.

"NO! HE'S POOR, PLEASE, REAP SOMEONE ELSE! MY DADDY'LL SUE YOU!" I shriek, my voice shrill. It's not fair!

Being Reaped is for the poor kids.

* * *

**Sammy Levanson, 12**

My poor, poor Kaelan. . . .

* * *

**DONE! Hope ya enjoyed. (I really should be doing my science homework right now) So yeah. **

**Chocolate is everyone's fav ice cream. So go vote in the new poll ;)**

**Q's:**

**Will Harmony change throughout the Games?**

**Is Kaelan enough motivation for Sammy to get home?**

**Will either live 5 minutes into the Games?**

* * *

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End file.
